


The Racks Aren't Worth It

by Nocturne1980



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Mob, Daddy Kink, Dark, Drugs, Erik gets what he wants, F/M, Gangs, Mobster Erik Killmonger, Pet Names, Recreational Drug Use, Small Talk, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Teasing, bad choices, sexual talk/promises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturne1980/pseuds/Nocturne1980
Summary: Shuri's scholarship money is running out and she has to figure out a quick way to get a lot of money. It's a good thing Nakia comes up with the best ideas.OrThe one where struggling college student Shuri decides stripping can pay the bills and she has an unfortunate run-in with King Killmonger.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger/Shuri
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The Racks Aren't Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a Bucky x Shuri story but I stumbled upon a pick of MBJ in a black-on-black suit and well...this happened.

_You can do this._

The dressing room was filled with beautiful women in various states of undress. Their clothing, if it could even be considered that, resembled exotic lingerie. I spy myself in a vanity mirror, my hoodie is baggy and swallows up my thin frame making me look like a kid surrounded by all these women with their voluptuous bodies.

It’s hard not to stare with wide eyes when a light complected girl with bare breast, each larger than my head, walks across my path, a tiny rhinestone-encrusted g-string sparkling between her butt cheeks.

The door to the dressing room opens and closes with regularity as women come and go, letting in the loud rumbling bass of a rap anthem lauding ‘pussy popping’. None of the women getting ready look anything like me. Sure most are black but that’s about where the similarities end.

There’s a lot of tattoos and there is no patch of skin too sacred. There’s even a girl with a massive butterfly tattooed across the globes of her massive behind, the lovely multicolored wings stretching out and down. It had to have hurt like hell to get. There are other things too. All of the women have long fake nails which didn’t hinder them from applying their makeup to perfection.

I look down at the double coat of glitter polish I have on my short natural nails and then I stuff my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

_You can do this. It’s just one time. You need the money. Don’t chicken out._

But I wonder just how much money I can earn tonight considering all of the women in the dressing room look like they are far better suited to seducing a man into parting with his money than me.

“Girl, drink this. You look like you’re ready to cut the hell out.”

A shot glass is thrust towards me, the brown liquid contents strong to my nose. I take it without question from Nakia. I don’t ask what it is and I’ve had enough practice at college parties to know when you’re tossing back hard liquor straight you don’t breathe through your nose. It burns going down. Hopefully, it will calm my nerves.

Nakia laughs, her stunning face full of mirth. The next thing she hands me is a half gone blunt and I take that too without hesitation. I may be a stripper novice but not when it comes to pot. It’s how I met Nakia, smoking late at night in the quad after a study session.

The slow drag worked faster than the liquid courage and I feel myself relaxing enough that the tension in my shoulders melts away.

“Are you sure about this, Nakia? I don’t think I—have what it takes.” I hand the blunt back to her and she holds up a hand signaling that I need to finish it. I take another drag.

“There are some real ballers here tonight. Every stripper in the city would kill to be working at Tuffy’s tonight. You haven’t been out on the floor yet. Come on, let’s get you ready and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Plus I had to really go out on a limb for your ass to get you in tonight. I showed Tuffy your video. If you flake out on me now I could lose my job and I only have one my semester left so don’t screw me on this.”

Nakia swore I could make all the money I needed to cover my room and board for a couple of years in this one night. It seemed absurd but after a few hours doing my own research online I discovered Nakia wasn’t exaggerating. For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, wealthy men would give copious amounts of money to women just for dancing with their clothes off. No touching, no sex. Just looking.

If I wasn’t a few weeks from being kicked out of student housing I wouldn’t consider it. But my dance scholarship had fine print I failed to read. It only covered room and board for the first two years. I only had two more years to get my STEM degree and after that, I planned on pursuing my master's and later Ph.D. But I had to finish undergrad first. And I couldn’t finish undergrad if I didn’t have a place to live or food to eat.

So…

My inglorious debut at Tuffy’s, a popular Atlanta strip club. I am officially joining a long rank of women who had graced Tuffy’s walls to pay for schooling. Thank God my family lives too far away to know what lows their only daughter had sunk to.

I’ve never been good at putting on makeup because I rarely wear it. Nothing beyond a tinted lip balm and if I’m feeling sassy a little black eyeliner. Nakia is gleeful as she goes to work on my face and when she’s finished I’m happy I don’t look like myself. I know my face is probably my most alluring attribute. I don’t have hips or breasts but I have my mother’s bone structure and I’ve never been vain or shy about it.

I’m already dressed under my sweats. The outfit is one Nakia helped me pick out. Delicate black lace and silk straps. My breasts are out but Nakia assures me my A cups are perfect and that not every man gets it up for big asses and titties. She continues her pep talk as I take the sweats off and put on my heels. It’s an odd sensation to feel the tips of my braids brush my bare ass cheeks. My ponytail is high and the long braids were Nakia’s idea too.

The alcohol and pot keep from being cold with so much skin exposed. Nakia runs over the rules once more. Who would have thought a strip club would have so many rules? I’m sure to forget something.

“You ready?” Nakia says.

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

The door to the dressing room opens and I step out to ensure my future.

oOo

It was akin to a carnival. There were several smaller stages, mostly men sat around them but there were a few women customers sprinkled about. The main stage had shining chrome poles that reached all the way up to the rafters. Glitter and money rained everywhere. Ass cheeks twerked and moved sensuously to the tune of the raining money, not the music.

Tuffy, an older black woman who was dressed like the cross between a church mother and Elton John in his heyday, stood by the DJ booth hyping up the crowd to rain more money on the women currently climbing up the scary high main stage poles. Although they were voluptuously thick, they nimbly made it to the top. My jaw dropped when one woman did an upside-down slip on a rafter beam, popping her hips in a lewd imitation of sex and twirling her head in a circle, whipping her hair around. 

“Crazy, right?” Nakia yelled in my ear over the music and Tuffy’s voice. “They’re going to rack up tonight. Just remember what I said. Try to get a baller to take you into a pink room.” She pointed across to a row of pink velvet doors where two bouncers were posted up. “That’s how you’re going to get your money.”

I nodded. I scanned the room for said ‘baller’ but how in the hell does one tell the difference between a man rich enough to part with twenty grand in one night and a man who was just taking in the sights.

All of the men covered in gold chains and diamonds were already occupied. Ugh, not to be cliche, but I have no experience with these types of things. I’ve been broke my whole life and didn't exactly rub elbows with the wealthy. Wasn’t that whole point of college. So I could change my circumstances.

But luck is on my side because just then I see a group of men enter the club. Most of them are big and brawny and they surround one who is clearly the leader if there was a pecking order. He’s dressed in all black. A suit that looked like money. Black shirt and shiny expensive looking black shoes. He wasn’t covered in diamonds but I could see him smile slightly at something someone in his group said, his canine teeth gleamed gold and diamonds.

One of the club’s bouncers guided his group to a private booth. He moved with effortless confidence she hadn't seen in any man. He had to be what I was looking for. No other girl headed to him yet so I grabbed Nakia’s hand and pulled her behind me as I locked in on our target.

He locked eyes with me just as we reached the booth. I stumbled before gaining my balance. _Fucking heels._ But it wasn’t the heels if I was honest. It was him. This close, even in the dim light, I could see just how handsome he was. The creases in his cheeks could be seen even through his facial hair, proving that he was a man who laughed often. Or smirked. Like he was doing now, his brown eyes showing amusement but also a predatory gleam.

“Who let a little kitten in this den of lionesses?” His voice was smooth, like warm Shea butter gliding on skin. Goosebumps prickled down my spine.

“She’s a new girl. What do you think.” Tuffy said just behind us. I hadn’t noticed the club’s owner approach but she stepped around Nakia and me as she spoke.

“She’s too precious to be here. Look at how she blushes.” He grinned exposing his canine and a dimple. It made him look dangerous but I was slightly annoyed because I _was_ blushing and there was no way in hell he could tell with my skin complexion, the lighting, and all the makeup Nakia had me in.

“All of my girls are vetted. She wouldn’t be here if she couldn’t deliver.”

“Why don’t you let me show you in there.” I feel bold. Bolder than I have a right to be as I nod towards a row of red velvet doors. I’m an excellent dancer. I won a scholarship to one of the most prestigious HBCUs in the country because of my dancing. Okay, partial scholarship, but who’s splitting hairs when I have something to prove and homelessness to avoid.

“Shuri—” Nakia cuts in but Tuffy gives her a look so scary it instantly silences my friend.

He stands and exits the booth to stand in front of me, much taller than I expected. Even with my heels on the top of my head just barely reaches his shoulder.

“Alright, kitten. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He holds out a hand and I put mine in it. Then we’re off to the line of red doors. I look over my shoulder at Nakia whose brows are furrowed, Tuffy held her upper arm in a pinching grip, telling Nakia something that causes her eyes to widen.

I can do this. I’m not some kid who needs to be taken care of. I smile at Nakia. I’ve been a dancer all my life. This is just one dance. A dance that will greatly improve my future. Worse case scenario he doesn't like my dancing. 


End file.
